During my stay in the first hospital I attended, I made a friend with the fairy tale name of “Robin.” He was my side-kick. I loved him more than any other person I met in any of the hospitals. He was one of those friends whose name you remember and never forget.
Not only was Robin a friend, but a super hero. He encouraged me to continue keeping a sketchbook and to draw whatever came to mind. We wrote stories and illustrated them together. He was determined to figure out how my brain worked and why my head was so mixed up. He seemed to care more about helping me than in helping himself.
Our minds were more similar than we knew. Robin has schizophrenia. I didn’t know at the time that I had similar “broken” pieces inside of me. We aren’t broken. There is nothing wrong with us. But at the time, there was something that needed to change. We needed healing, and we fed that to one another.
He was very smart, creative, kind, and brave. He helped me to build a thicker layer of skin, which I would need later. He never threw me out, no matter what I said or did to hurt him, on days when I was especially not in my right mind. He was so patient. I wish he could know how important he was to me. I have no way to reach him anymore, but I wish he could hear my words of praise.
Robin, you helped me to stay sane, but we had a good time even when we weren’t. If you’re out there, thank you for believing in me. You were more than a side-kick. You were a great friend. I love you.
—SJB